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I subscribe to a newsletter called "Good in a Room" which talks about what to do and what not to do when meeting with Hollywood movie makers - I'm talking the BIG WIGS! This newsletter has some really good advice, things I would not have thought of myself. This particular article really hits home, though. It just came to my inbox and I had to share it with those of you who are on the same path as I am, the independent filmmaker. It opened my eyes to people I am dealing with everyday, and helped me to make decisions about who I am and am not going to work with.

GOOD IN A ROOM by Stephanie Palmer:

You know those stories where the hero is lied to, but doesn’t know
it, and the best friend knows about the lie and has to decide whether or
not to tell the hero? With rare exception, the sooner the hero is told
about the lie, the better. It might hurt, but better to know the
truth.
In this post, I’m playing the role of the friend, you’re the hero, and I’m hoping that you won’t be upset when I tell you:Sometimes, the compliments you get from decision-makers about your work aren’t true.
These compliments, these times when you hear a version of “Yes,” often are lies–and what is actually being said is, “No.”
That’s why today we’re going to talk about exactly what “No,” “Maybe,” and “Yes” really sound like.

The Lie Is Told For A Reason

Decision-makers
don’t tell you the truth because they are trying to protect their
relationship with you. They want you to send them your future work, so
they lie in order not to hurt your feelings.
This lie is a problem
for writers, directors, and producers who are taking meetings, sending
out scripts, and thinking a deal is close at hand… when in reality,
they’re being told “No” time and again. Unfortunately, they keep
chasing leads that aren’t there and wasting precious time.
I don’t
want you to be wasting your time. I want you to be the kind of
professional who understands the subtext, knows when he or she is being
told the truth, and can act accordingly. So let’s talk about the ways
that “No,” “Maybe,” and “Yes” are communicated.

“No” Is Silence Over Time

Chris Kelly, a writer for Real Time with Bill Maher wrote this in a recent article (crediting Merill Markoe):

In
Hollywood, ‘no’ is silence over time. The way you find out you’re not
getting the job, that they passed, that they didn’t respond to the
material, that they’re going a different direction, is silence. It’s the
call you don’t get.” (via Huffington Post)

Other forms of “silence over time”:

If you can’t get an in-person meeting at all.

If your emails don’t get returned in one week.

If your calls don’t get returned in two weeks.

If your script has been passed along (to a star, director, or producer), and you haven’t heard back in a month.

If you pitch to a decision-maker and they want to be in business with you, they will get in touch as soon as possible. If you haven’t heard back, the answer (almost always) is “No.”

Unless They Pay You, The Answer Is “No”

Unless
there’s money, the answer is no. Isn’t that terrible? And it’s so
unfortunate because there’s thousands and thousands — so many wonderful,
creative ways for people to say no to you. And so many of them sound
like yes, which is horrifying really to contemplate, but it’s human
nature. Nobody really likes saying no to somebody. Nobody wants to be
mean. No one wants to see that look reflected back to them.”

If you’re not getting any money, the answer is probably “No.”

“No” Often Starts With A Compliment

When people in Hollywood say “No,” the medicine is typically accompanied by a spoonful of sugar.
Examples include:

“This has a lot of potential…”

“This is a great piece of writing…”

“I love the main characters…”

“This is hilarious…”

“We love it…”

If
you’re getting compliments like this, they can be true, but don’t take
them at face value. Most of the time, all of these compliments translate
to:“You seem like a nice person and I don’t see any reason to offend you….”

“No” Usually Ends With An Excuse

After the compliment you get the excuse:

“… but isn’t the right fit for us.”

“… but we are overbudget.”

“… but would be too expensive.”

“… but we have another project that is too similar.”

If you’re hearing reasons like these, don’t take them at face value. Most of the time, all of the reasons translate to:“…but this isn’t good enough (yet).”

“No” = Compliment + Excuse

Most
of the time when you’re getting compliments on your writing followed by
an excuse about why you’re not getting any money, the actual
compliments and excuses are not the truth. The truth is that they are
saying:“You seem like a nice person and I don’t see any reason to offend you, but this isn’t good enough (yet).”
This
is a hard thing to hear because we want to believe that the compliment
is real because that’s something to feel good about. We want to believe
that the excuse is real because it lets us save face.
The thing to understand is that if your work was good enough, you’d at least get a “Maybe.”

“Maybe” Comes In Three Flavors

The first kind of “Maybe” is: Notes.
When
someone actually takes the time to give you feedback on what you’ve
done, that’s a victory. It means that they want to be helpful and that,
if you are able to make the changes, they may be willing to take
another look or meet with you again.The second kind of “Maybe” is: Stall for time.
Examples:

“I’ll take a look at it.”

“Let me get back to you once I’ve had the chance to read it.”

This is a gray area, and typically means one of two things:

“I
like you personally and don’t want to offend you, but I don’t think
this is good enough yet, and I want you to send me your future
projects.”

“My assistant will take a look at it and then tell me
what he or she thinks and if the feedback is extremely positive, then
I’ll take a look.”

Unfortunately, it’s difficult to decipher
the difference between a “Maybe” that means “No” and a “Maybe” that
means “Maybe.” The best thing to do is to follow up after an appropriate
amount of time, typically two weeks.

The third kind of “Maybe” is: Let’s move this up the chain.

Examples:

“Let’s get Matt Damon (or other Big Star) on the line right now.”

“Come meet my boss.”

This
is a hopeful sign. It means that if the star, director, or higher-level
executive is interested, then this could quickly turn into a “Yes.”

“Yes” Means Things Are About To Move Fast

“Yes” sounds like this:

“I’m going to have Business Affairs call your agent.”

“We’re going to make an offer. Wait by your phone.”

“I’d like to option this for [$$$].”

Remember,
a great piece of material, a great pitch, a great writer—these are all
very rare commodities. If a decision-maker believes that your work is
that valuable, he or she is going to move quickly to sign you, buy your
material, or otherwise bring you on board.

It was dark when I awoke. Beads of sweat sat upon my furrowed
brow. What was my dream? A dark room and shadow people. Something about a
message from Mom. I could not recall, but this incessant feeling that
something was amiss nagged at my heart.

I climbed
out of bed and stretched the kinks from my back.That old mattress has
got to go, I thought. That thing has been around for 10years now, and
it's high time to retire it, no doubt about that. I opened the bedroom door and could see the faint light of dawn through I crack in the curtains.

I
walked to the front door and opened it, immediately inspired by the
warmth that greeted me. The sun nudged its head above the horizon, and
brilliant reds and golds flared out like magic fingers; wispy clouds
floated carelessly by, intertwining with the colors and blue of the
sky.

Birds sang their songs in unison, without worrying if one was out
singing the other. None off key, no two

alike. Two cardinals landed on a
woodpile on the porch near the doorway. They flittered and frolicked
around, dancing their spring mating dance. They had not a care in the
world, and didn't even mind me standing there watching them. A cool
breeze fluttered through the screen door. I felt it brush my hair and
kiss my skin.

I opened the door and stepped onto
the porch, and the little cardinals flew away, continuing their banter
and mating ritual on a honeysuckle bush nearby. Something pulled at my
nightgown and I looked down to see our cat twining his way around my
legs, begging for breakfast. "In a minute"I told the calico.

The
feeling here was a magical one. Marveling at God's perfection, I knew
it. It was a familiar feeling, something that I felt I had recently
experienced. I closed my eyes and tried to recall the dream. Nothing.I
prayed silently that I would remember, because I knew it was something
profoundly important. Suddenly, a crow cawed loudly, making me jump. It
landed on the lower limb of the mighty maple tree that hung just above
the porch. Caw,caw, caw! He was unfettered by my presence, and in fact,
seemed to be urgently speaking just to me, "Remember,
remember, remember!" I sat spellbound by this oddly familiar scenario.
What was a crow doing sitting here speaking to me, and why did it seem
so familiar? It was then I recalled the dream...

I sat
among my elders, my grandparents on my Mom’s side, along with a few
other grandmothers I did not recognize. “Are you ready?” My mother
asked. I nodded my head, not being able to speak for some reason. We
were all sitting in a room with no floor, just dirt; hard, cool and slick
from years of living, walking, and laying on it. “It’s made with wood
ash.” I heard someone say. “You mix wood ash and dirt together with
water. Comes out like concrete.” I nodded, I had heard of that before.

“Caw, caw, caw!” A big black crow sat on an old, wooden chair. He was perched there, intent on the goings on.

“You
know allot of things, you just don’t remember.” This from one of the
grandmothers. “We’re here to remind ya. That’s all ya need is
remindin’,” said another.

“No
gossipin’ while you make food!” One exclaimed. She had jet black hair
parted in the middle and knotted at the nape of her neck. She was heavy,
wore a blue calico print dress with a high lace collar, but her face reminded me
of a picture of Martha Montgomery, my 4thgreat grandmother that I had seen once. She was Irish and Cherokee, born in 1868 in southeastern Kentucky.

“Caw, caaaaaaaawwww!”

“If
women are talkin’ in the kitchen while ya’s cookin’ 'an the hot grease
or stew or whatever you’re cookin’ pops out on ya, you best stop talkin’
about whatever it is, cause the spirits are trying to shut you up!” She
said with a grin. She watched me, her black eyes steady and unblinking.
She had eyes like my mom and my mom's father, I could see the resemblance clear
as day. I stared back into the depths and felt the bond I had with her.
“Mattie,”she told me, “Name’s Mattie.”

A
slow smile spread across my face. I knew her. I collected my family’s
stories for fifteen years before writing novels took all my time away
from genealogy. She’d had a rough life. My grandpa’s grandpa was not a
nice person. His eyes were crystal blue, a very unusual color, but they
did not adorn a nice face. Mean. Of course, no one smiled in those
photos from back in the day, but this was different. He was just mean
looking. She wore a look of pain and unhappiness that was obvious in
those black eyes in the portrait, but that look was gone now,
replaced with glints of peace and contentment. This was the girl she had been when she was younger; she had gone back to the light. I thought of the song "This Little Light of Mine," and knew instantly that was the light we go back to when we die. The young, fresh-faced people we were, before life had its way with us. Mattie had that light now. I often wished I had
known her. I thought this might be my chance.